Jose Abreu's mysterious journey

The full details of Jose Abreu's journey from Cuba to the U.S remain a secret. How did he get here?

Jose Abreu's harrowing journey to the White Sox began last year on a small boat on the shores of Cuba.

"I've heard Abreu's story, and I thought mine was crazy," said teammate and fellow Cuban native Adrian Nieto, who came to the U.S. on a raft with his family when he was 4.

"Him being on a little boat with just two motors and these two huge ships got in between them. He said the waves were 15 feet high and he thought they were going to drown. It's crazy."

Abreu, the front-runner to win the American League Rookie of the Year award Monday, became the 17th Cuban player for the Sox, building on a legacy rooted in the legendary Minnie Minoso. Nine Cuban-born players, including the Cubs' Jorge Soler, made their major league debuts last season. Over the last 50 years, at least five dozen Cubans have reached the majors, with scores more playing in the minors.

While Cuba remains a wellspring of baseball talent, its players don't leave the country freely. The U.S. government imposed a commercial trade embargo on Cuba more than five decades ago, and the Communist government there prohibits players from signing with major league teams.

But the lure of freedom and baseball dreams is strong, so young men are willing to take giant risks for themselves and, sometimes, for their families. Players sneak away from teams during tournaments in foreign countries — or, more treacherously, hire smugglers to ferry them off the island that may later extort them.

Bio: Abreu grew up in Cruces, about 150 miles southeast of Havana, and started playing baseball...

The recent wave of players can be linked to the rising financial payoff not just for players but also for those who compose well-oiled smuggling rings: boat drivers, middlemen and other shady characters. At the same time, teams scout Cuban players better than ever, thanks in part to easy access on the Internet and added international competition such as the World Baseball Classic.

"At a minimum, 95 percent of the players leaving Cuba are being smuggled out," said Joe Kehoskie, a baseball consultant and former agent who represented Cuban players. "There is always a profit motive. I can't remember the last time a decent player was smuggled out of Cuba and there wasn't a smuggler there who expected payment."

In the case of Abreu, he disappeared from the tiny Caribbean island in August 2013.

About two months later, Abreu's imposing 6-foot-3, 255-pound frame emerged for a two-day showcase at the Yankees' academy in the Dominican Republic, wowing 200 baseball executives and scouts. By the end of October, he had signed the largest contract in White Sox history, a six-year deal worth $68 million.

The Tribune's Jared S. Hopkins looks at the issues facing Cuban baseball players like White Sox star Jose Abreu when they emigrate from Cuba with the hopes of playing in the major leagues.

The Tribune's Jared S. Hopkins looks at the issues facing Cuban baseball players like White Sox star Jose Abreu when they emigrate from Cuba with the hopes of playing in the major leagues.

The full details of Abreu's journey from Cuba to the U.S. remain a secret. Abreu and his agents declined to discuss his defection. His family provided few details.

A Tribune review of public records and interviews with more than three dozen people show that Cuban players often are smuggled out of their country through a clandestine network of shadowy figures who sometimes extort players. While Major League Baseball's $9 billion enterprise continues to see an influx of Cuban players, federal authorities have been investigating at least two Cuban smuggling rings tied to baseball. Five people have been indicted.

Often leaving the island in the dead of night, players promise the smugglers upward of 30 percent of their first contract for securely carrying them between countries. Through it all, players are aided and protected by handlers in Mexico, Haiti or the Dominican Republic loosely affiliated with American sports agents before arriving in the U.S.

The most infamous defection reads like a Hollywood script. Dodgers outfielder Yasiel Puig and those he escaped with were held in a motel in Mexico as smugglers negotiated a ransom. Gangsters threatened one of Puig's friends, and a smuggler turned up dead in Cancun.

The affair is spelled out in a $12 million federal court case a Cuban man filed against the 23-year-old Puig, saying he was falsely imprisoned in Cuba while the ballplayer plotted with Cuban authorities to leave.

"It seems to be a new ballgame out there," said Miami attorney Ben Daniel, a former federal prosecutor who oversaw human trafficking cases, including that of sports agent Gus Dominguez, who went to prison in 2007 for the offense. "It's much more cutthroat."

A baseball prodigy

Abreu, 27, was born in Mal Tiempo, a small neighborhood in Cruces, a city about 150 miles southeast of Havana. He was playing third base in Cuba's national school games by the time he was 7 and continued to excel.

In Cuba, players compete for their provinces. When Abreu was 16, he made his debut with Cienfuegos in Cuba's top league, the Cuba National Series. He played 10 seasons, setting records in the last four, and in 2012 was one RBI shy of winning the Triple Crown.

Unlike some Cuban players, Abreu was familiar to MLB scouts from his exposure on national teams. He compiled about 300 plate appearances outside his home country.

Abreu told the Tribune he decided during last year's World Baseball Classic to defect.

"I realized I could go elsewhere with baseball," he said in Spanish. "Everyone knows we're here playing in the world's best baseball league. The differences (with Cuban baseball) include the level of professionalism among players here."

Unlike Puig and others, Abreu never was reported to have been caught trying to escape, suggesting he may have made it out on his first try.

"Nobody expected it," said Darilyes Reyes, a journalist in Cuba who covers Cienfuegos. "Unlike other players, he never expressed intentions to leave the country, not even when he was offered millions in the Classic to do it."

Abreu's brother-in-law told the Tribune he and Abreu took a boat in August 2013 to Haiti, where Abreu established residency. Abreu left behind his young son and family.

"Abreu was dragged out of there in a boat," said Alfredo Arias, a trainer and player agent who co-owns the Arias and Goodman academy in the Dominican Republic. "He risked his life."

That same month, the Orioles' Henry Urrutia — who defected in 2011 — told MLB.com that Abreu had called him from an "undisclosed location" to say he had successfully escaped. Less than a week later, agents who represent Urrutia announced they were planning to showcase Abreu.

When Abreu reached the Dominican Republic, he lived in Santo Domingo, the nation's capital, and Santiago, about two hours north, said Amauri Morel, who works at Praver Shapiro Sports Management. Morel, based in the Dominican, said he provided "client services" to Abreu — helping with housing, for example — and brought the slugger to train at various parks and stadiums.

All told, Abreu spent about three months in the Dominican. Once the 2014 season began, Abreu, who is married, bought a two-story, 2,748-square-foot Spanish-style house in Miami for $445,000. His family, including his parents and sister, arrived in the U.S. in May and now live in the house, although they told the Tribune they rarely venture far from it. The All-Star Game in July in Minneapolis was the first time they saw him play in person.

Abreu's transition while in the U.S. has been aided by Julio Estrada, a Cuban exile in Miami who has worked with one of Abreu's agents, Bart Hernandez, for about a decade, records show. Estrada's precise role with regard to Abreu is unclear. He identified himself as an agent, but the players union said it has no evidence of that.

When the Tribune tried to interview Abreu's family in Miami about their defection, it was Estrada who abruptly called it off, even though Abreu's mother had initially agreed.

A Sox spokesman said Abreu had not shared details of his defection. But Ken Williams, the team's executive vice president, said any Cuban player's perilous trip, and how it affects him, factors into whether he is signed.

"It's just like any other acquisition," Williams said. "You try to get as much information as to the makeup of the player, mentally, emotionally. His makeup on the field — Is he a leader? Is he a respectful-type person? Is he a flashy-type person? How does he fit into the team?"

In communist Cuba, baseball is king and the players receive special treatment: extra clothes, money, food.

But while life there can be easier for ballplayers, it's not easy for them to leave because Cuba's regime employs a sophisticated surveillance system. The 2013 National League rookie of the year, Marlins pitcher Jose Fernandez, escaped after three failed tries. Puig didn't get out until his fifth attempt.

"Take off the blindfold," Cuban-born former pitcher Orlando "El Duque" Hernandez said he tells young players. "Try to be free. And it is happening. I wish someday everyone to be free."

Cuban players reach the major leagues one of two ways. One is via the United States' "wet-foot, dry-foot policy," which generally allows Cubans to stay if they reach U.S. soil (if caught at sea, they are returned to Cuba). But this option subjects players to the amateur draft, cutting into the chances of landing big contracts.

So they typically defect to a third country, often Haiti, the Dominican Republic or Mexico. In recent years, the smuggling operations have become more efficient, yet increasingly ruthless. Players may make arrangements with contacts in the U.S., but they also have been approached in Cuba by people involved with smugglers.

Cuban exile Rider Reyes, who recently finished a six-month prison sentence on charges related to smuggling, said he helped people involved with moving players into Mexico. He said the smugglers treat players like prisoners, despite their voluntarily leaving, and do not release them until they are paid.

"Those people are all about the money; they don't care about the players," Reyes said.

Nieto, a White Sox catcher, said paying the smugglers appears simply to have become another step in the process of Cubans reaching the majors.

"It has become a business, pretty much, with guys that do this and do that," he said. "You have to give them a percentage when you sign. It's a risk, and for a lot of guys, it has paid off for them."

A network

Abreu has not said he paid smugglers to move him out of Cuba. But one of his three agents, Bart Hernandez, was linked to alleged smugglers in a 2012 civil court case.

Hernandez, 51, has risen from relative anonymity to boasting a client list of about two dozen Cuban-born players.

Hernandez grew up in Elmhurst, N.Y. He told El Nuevo Herald in 2012 he was born in Pinar del Rio and defected in 1971 during the so-called Freedom Flights.

Hernandez pitched a year at McNeese State in Louisiana, then hung around baseball in New York, instructing players in the city and suburbs. Eventually, he drew the attention of Octagon, then a growing sports agency.

"He found an avenue with the Latin players," said Ray Negron, a longtime Yankees executive who grew up with Hernandez. "He's bilingual. He's an intelligent guy."

In 2009, Hernandez formed his own agency —Global Sports Management — in Florida, where he had been recruiting Latin youths for elite travel teams. Business records show he formed his company with Edgar Mercedes, a wealthy Dominican agent and academy owner. (Morel, the employee at Praver Shapiro, was also named on the business records.)

In 2012, Mercedes was arrested and detained by Dominican authorities in connection with an investigation into the smuggling of Cuban players, said Milciades Guzman, a deputy prosecutor in the Dominican's justice department according. Guzman said Mercedes was released due to insufficient evidence. Mercedes was not charged, and at the time he told reporters he was innocent.

Agents, trainers and others said signing Cuban players requires risky yet careful navigation of the laws in Cuba and the U.S, particularly because of the political sensitivity. Hernandez apparently has figured it out.

"Bart's a magician," one baseball agent, who requested anonymity, said about Hernandez's ability to sign Cuban players.

However, in recent years, Hernandez, who declined to be interviewed for this story, has faced legal pressure.

He has been entangled in a 2012 civil legal battle between Rangers outfielder Leonys Martin and Estrellas del Beisbol, a Mexico-based company whose principals have been federally indicted on smuggling charges, records show.

Martin sued Hernandez, as well as Praver Shapiro Sports Management, an agency formed by Barry Praver and Scott Shapiro, Abreu's other two agents, as part of a countersuit against Estrellas, which originally sued Martin for breach of contract. Estrellas' suit alleges that Martin owes the company 35 percent of his major league contract, 5 percent of which would go to Hernandez.

In his filings, Martin alleges it was coercion and fear that led him to his financial relationships with Estrellas and Hernandez. He details a harrowing defection in which he and his family were smuggled out of Cuba and held hostage for weeks in Mexico, often at gunpoint, and shuffled among various locations.

Martin contended in court records that Hernandez was an "integral" part of Estrellas del Beisbol, which Martin alleged was an "illegal enterprise" of smuggling, kidnapping and extortion that included Eliezer Lazo, a Cuban exile living in Miami.

In Cuba, Martin alleged, he and his family swam from the shores of Havana to a 45-foot yacht, which then traveled for several hours before reaching Cancun. They boarded a van and drove 15 minutes to a house where two men, including Lazo, were waiting with holstered weapons.

"You are worth a lot; I am not going to let you go," Lazo told him, according to the court records.

In Mexico, Lazo introduced Hernandez to Martin and other players, who were told Hernandez would represent them, according to Martin's complaint.

Joseph Huss, an attorney for Hernandez in the Martin case, declined to comment. In a 2013 affidavit, Hernandez described his interactions with Martin as strictly professional and voluntary. He said he was introduced to Martin by "a principal of Estrellas," a company with which he said he was not affiliated.

"Martin essentially interviewed me relative to serving as his player agent. After that meeting and interview process," Martin reached an agreement with him and Praver Shapiro, Hernandez said in the document.

In the federal smuggling case involving individuals working for Estrellas, Lazo pleaded guilty in August in Florida to extortion charges related to the smuggling of 1,000 Cubans, including baseball players such as Martin.

Lazo, 41, is currently in a Florida prison serving a five-year sentence for money laundering. In the smuggling case, he faces up to 20 years but has agreed to cooperate with prosecutors. Records from that case show Lazo and his brother-in-law, Joel Martinez Hernandez, made large sums of money from working with players.

An attorney for Martinez Hernandez declined to comment. Lazo's attorney could not be reached.

Bart Hernandez is not named or charged in the pending federal criminal smuggling case against Lazo and others. In court filings, prosecutors allege that smuggled players "were instructed, also in the presence of armed men, to sign contracts both with Estrellas del Beisbol ... and B.H., whom the players were told would serve as their sports agent."

'A lot of money'

Baseball is seemingly always on display in the Dominican Republic.

On a recent afternoon in San Pedro de Macoris, dozens of kids, bats and mitts in hand, scattered across improvised fields on a wide expanse of former baseball diamonds lush with grass. At another field a couple of miles away, a group whose shirts were emblazoned with the name of a major league player's foundation conducted batting practice. And an hour away in Boca Chica, players on a winter league team with major league aspirations practiced at the glamorous new Cubs facility.

But sometimes, baseball can be hard to find.

Once Cuban players reach a third country, they establish residency. They find — or are set up with — agents to represent them in negotiations with major league teams. Paperwork is submitted to the U.S., which unblocks the players from doing business with major league teams. MLB, meanwhile, grants them free-agent status.

But top prospects are stowed away by handlers and given a taste of "The Show": private security, fancy cars, private workouts in isolated stadiums.

"The Cuban business is handled a little on the down low," said Astin Jacobo Jr., who owns a youth baseball academy in San Pedro and said he is not involved with Cuban players. "Why? Because there's a lot of money involved — a lot of money — and because the players don't want to be exposed themselves."

U.S. law prohibits teams from doing business with Cuban nationals. Kim Ng, an MLB vice president who directs international operations, said teams can host private workouts only after either a player has done a showcase for all 30 teams or MLB has announced his residency is legitimate.

She said the rule had been in place for a number of years, but some Dominican scouts and team officials said it had been enacted within the last few years.

"The Cubans, until they get their papers, nobody knows where they're at," said six-time All-Star outfielder and former Cub Moises Alou, now a general manager of a Dominican winter league team. "The people who brought them, they're afraid that they're going to get stolen by another (agent)."

Jose Serra, the Cubs' director of Dominican operations, said they find out they can go see a player when an agent announces a showcase — a stricter environment, he said, than when the team signed Soler in 2011.

"We cannot be watching them before they announce a big showcase for everyone," he said. "I can probably go on my own risk, but if MLB finds out, they might fine the Cubs."

Haiti, the Dominican Republic and other Caribbean countries are notorious for being places where faulty paperwork can be obtained easily. For years, MLB has investigated and dealt with problems related to documentation, including age verification.

Jose Cano, a former major league pitcher and father of six-time All-Star second baseman Robinson Cano, owns an academy that includes a Cuban player.

Cano conceded that Cuban players who come to the Dominican with hopes of reaching the majors seem to resolve their residency paperwork faster than other people thanks to bribery of government officials.

"You want something quick, give a little money on the side and you get it quickly," he said during a recent Dominican league game. "That's the way we work (in the Dominican)."

Ng said MLB has no oversight role in Cuban players aside from granting them free-agent status once the U.S. government rules on their paperwork. An MLB spokesman declined to comment for this story.

The players union represents players only after they are active in the major leagues. In a statement, the union said: "The MLBPA is concerned about this issue, and we expect this topic to be raised in future discussions with Major League Baseball. However, bear in mind that this is an extremely complicated subject that extends beyond the interests of baseball."

Sox spokesman Scott Reifert said one cannot help but be impressed and touched by what Cuban players in the majors have overcome.

"We have nothing but admiration and respect for what these players have endured and accomplished," Reifert said, "especially for them to then go on and succeed on baseball's biggest stage, the major leagues."

Added Ken Williams: "Everyone's story's different. Some of them are simply hair-raising and shocking, and it's sad that that's what you're born into, and to escape it you have to resort to measures that can risk your life and your family's life."

Cuban players are expected to continue signing with major league clubs, especially the ones in their 20s who, like Abreu, are good enough to skip the minors and debut in the majors.

Some retired Cuban players said they hear players back home grow more motivated to defect when they hear how much money teams have thrown at Abreu, Puig and Rusney Castillo, who signed with the Red Sox. After playing at least five years internationally, players are generally exempt from signing limitations.

The latest big bat out of Cuba is 23-year-old outfielder Yasmany Tomas,a member of last year's World Baseball Classic team who played five seasons in the Cuban National Series. He defected in June and is working out in the Dominican, agent Jay Alou said of his first Cuban client.

Cuba's official newspaper in Havana said Tomas left via "unscrupulous, illegal human trafficking."

'We're free'

With his mysterious journey to the United States behind him, Abreu had a historic debut.

He was the first rookie in major league history to rank in the top five in his league in batting average, home runs and RBIs. He set the Sox rookie record for home runs and ranks among the top three rookies in Sox history for RBIs.

On Monday, the Baseball Writers' Association of America will name the American League rookie of the year. Abreu is the heavy favorite.

In September, toward the end of the season, Abreu declined to discuss his defection, telling the Tribune in Spanish: "I think it's best not to talk on that subject. Someday, God willing, if we're in the position to, I'll be able to talk about that with all my heart."

But he spoke without hesitation that living in the U.S. was worth the journey, however frightening it might have been.